


A  Pocket of Time

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Era, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-25
Updated: 2005-11-24
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Harry is preparing to spend Valentine's Day with his boyfriend.  However, things don't always go as planned





	1. The Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: Beta: [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=theflutist)[**theflutist**](http://www.livejournal.com/users/theflutist/) and [](http://www.livejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=hailiebu)[](http://www.livejournal.com/users/hailiebu/)**hailiebu**   


* * *

The door to the dormitory opened and slammed shut, producing a breeze that swayed through the red drapes on Ron’s bed.  Ron parted the drapes with his bare foot and saw a ruffled-looking Harry storming through the room.

“Harry, what’s wrong?”

"Nothing," Harry mumbled, falling into his bed fully dressed.  "Go back to sleep."

Sighing, Ron got out of bed, waved at Neville to lie back down, and went over to join Harry on his bed.  

“Another row?”  Ron asked, attempting to sound sincere.

Harry shrugged his shoulders and leaned against the headboard.

“What was it this time?  Did you not chew your food up to Slytherin’s standards at supper?”  Ron didn't even try to hide the disdain in his voice.

“No.”  Harry sighed.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”  He slid down and positioned himself with his back to his friend.

“Don’t worry.  You’ll make up tomorrow,” Ron said, kneading his fingers into Harry’s upper arm.   
   
“Maybe,” Harry whispered.

Ron bit his lip and continued comforting Harry by rubbing his back.  He didn’t return to his own bed until he felt Harry’s breathing lessen and heard quiet snores escaping from his mouth.  

Without someone to comfort him, sleep didn’t come easily for Ron.  His mind wandered and weaved through memories of happier times, before Blaise Zabini seduced his best friend.  

~~~

Zabini glared at Harry at breakfast the next day, but Harry just ignored him.  Ron, however, responded with several rude gestures.  It may have been considered childish by some, but he felt a whole lot better.

“Another break-up?”  Hermione asked Ron later, gesturing towards where Harry was sulking in the corner of the Gryffindor Common Room.

“I’m really tired of it, Hermione," whined Ron.  "That bastard treats him like shite and Harry takes it!”

“And you are there to pick up the pieces," she concluded.  "It’s not fair to you, Ron.”

“I’m his best mate.  That’s what I’m here for,” Ron said pointedly.

"Best mate," Hermione repeated dryly.  "Yeah, that's it." 

Ron had grown tired of Hermione’s implications eons ago and didn’t even bother trying to dispel her belief that he was secretly harboring feelings of love for Harry.  One, because Hermione wouldn’t change her mind once she was sure about something; and two - because she was right.  

“Yes, that is it!" replied Ron sarcastically.  "I’m just supposed to ignore how miserable Zabini makes him!  What was I supposed to do when he left Harry the day before Christmas to go on holiday with Malfoy?  Leave him all alone here in the castle to brood?”

“Yes,” hissed Hermione.  “Harry doesn’t feel the full effect of what Blaise does to him because he has you to stop him from feeling lonely.  He and Blaise get into a row.  Harry gets all moody and then you smother him with affection and love.  If I didn’t know Harry better, I’d say he knows exactly what he is doing!”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Ron grumbled.

“Have you ever told Harry you disapprove of him dating Blaise?”

“You know I haven’t.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have to.  He knows.”

“No, he doesn’t."  Hermione sounded exasperated.  "You, of all people, should know how Harry is about emotions and feelings.  He just doesn’t read them well.”  She looked at Ron intently and sniggered.

Ron raised an eyebrow.  “What was that for?”

“Neither do you,” she responded.

Ron gave her a nasty look and stood up.

“Where are you going?” she demanded. 

“To talk to Harry,” he replied.

Hermione clucked her tongue to show her discontentment.

"You could be more supportive, Hermione," Ron said sharply.  "You're his friend, too!"

“I’m not the one he wants fawning all over him,” she countered.

“Bugger off,” Ron muttered under his breath.

Harry raised his eyes from the magazine he was reading as Ron approached. He flashed a smile and a rush of hormones turned Ron’s brain to mush.

“Oi, mate.”  Ron nudged Harry’s feet over so he could sit on the edge of the chair.

Once his brain put him back in control, he spoke.  “We’ve got Quidditch practice early tomorrow.  You’d better get some rest or Ginny will have both of our heads.”

Harry grinned at the memory of the last time the Seeker and Keeper had overslept for practice.  Ginny had flown to their bedroom window and hit them with a spell that doused them both with buckets of ice water.

“The last time was your fault.”  Harry pointed a finger at Ron and winked.

“My fault?” exclaimed Ron, feigning shock.

“Yes, mate, your fault," said Harry.  "You’re the one who insisted we play that silly drinking game Finnegan dreamed up.”

“That’s right, is it?  I don’t remember casting the Imperi - ”

“Harry!  Are you in there?” 

Ron flinched at the sound of Zabini’s revolting drawl echoing through the Common Room.  He looked up to see Seamus bursting through the portrait with an angry look on his face. 

“Harry, Zabini is outside looking for you,” Seamus announced tersely.

Harry bolted from his seat and strode towards the portrait.  Ron noticed Seamus' puzzled expression and gave him a look that said, "I don't get it either."

With a shrug of his shoulders, Seamus walked away, muttering something about inspecting Harry for the Imperius Curse. 

Ron picked up the magazine that Harry had left on the chair.  His face screwed up in frustration when he saw the article Harry was reading:  ‘Voldemort lives – The Boy Who Lived is a fake!’

The Wizarding world had been at odds since Voldemort’s downfall.  Half of them worshipped Harry like some god and the other half refused to believe that Harry had fought Voldemort and won.

Ron had no doubt what had happened, not because he was there, but because Harry had told him so.  Only four people knew exactly how Harry killed the Dark Lord: Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Dumbledore.  The lack of information to the general public is what sparked these types of articles.  Harry didn’t want anyone to know how he did it and Ron sure wasn’t going to tell anyone.  Not even his parents.

There were plenty of news stories that made Harry look like a hero, but he avoided them like a hex.  Ron couldn’t understand why he insisted on tormenting himself with only the negative press he received.

Standing up with a stretch and a yawn, Ron rolled up the magazine and stuffed it in his pocket.  He rejoined Hermione on the couch and picked up his book to study, glancing at the entrance to the Common Room every so often.

“If he wasn’t back in five minutes, than they've made up,” she said smugly.

“Hermione, for once, will you please pretend you don’t know everything?”  Ron snapped.  
   
“Fine,” she replied curtly, slamming her book shut for emphasis.  “I’m going to bed.”

At the bottom of the stairs, she added, “Don’t wait up all night for him.”

“You just can’t stop yourself,” Ron called out after her as she stomped up the stairs.

Slowly, the Common Room emptied until Ron was the last one left.  The quiet and the warmth from the fireplace quickly lulled him to sleep.  

“Harry, stop, that tickles,” Ron said groggily, between unmanly like giggles.

“Wake up, Ron.”  Harry squeezed Ron’s shoeless foot.

Ron opened his eyes with a yawn and looked up at Harry, who was grinning down at him.  As Ron became aware of his surroundings, he also became aware of something straining against the fly of his trousers. 

Ron sat up quickly and crossed his arms over his lap.

“Must’ve dozed off.”

“Good look for you.”  Harry sat down next to Ron and pointed at the top of his head.

Ron’s hand went up and felt his fiery strands of hair standing straight up.  Harry reached over and patted at Ron’s bed head.  

Ron grabbed Harry's wrist.  "S'okay.  I'm just going to bed anyway."

Harry was so close that Ron’s senses went on overload, causing a chain of bodily reactions to surge through his body.  His heart skipped a beat as he looked at the yellow specks sparkling in Harry’s emerald eyes.  His fingers clamped on Harry’s wrist, and he felt their combined pulses beating together.  His own pulse quickened, and goosebumps rose up on his neck as Harry’s warm breath tickled his cheek.  But then a faint smell of cologne and sweat, a foreign scent, reached his nostrils.  His instincts screamed – NOT HARRY - and his gut twisted in a knot.

“You’re in a better mood,” he muttered, leaping up.

Harry’s eyes lowered.  “Yeah, you were right.  We worked things out.”

“Good,” Ron said in a voice slightly higher than his norm.  “Going to bed.”

Ron couldn’t get away from Harry fast enough.  Something deep inside him was in a rage, yelling at him to fight for what he wanted and what he believed rightfully belonged to him.  Harry was on his heels demanding to know what was wrong.  Ron ignored him and went straight to the sanctuary of his bed.  

He could see Harry through the slit in his curtains, standing there, looking helpless and confused.  Ron’s rage deflated, and with a heavy sigh, he pushed the curtains aside.

“Nothing’s wrong, Harry.  Go to sleep.  Early day tomorrow.”

~~~

Quidditch practice was normally tough, but the last one before the Hufflepuff game was completely exhausting.  Ginny was relentless and had told Harry and Ron repeatedly that it was her goal for the two of them to leave Hogwarts with the House Cup.

Ron hung around the locker rooms after practice, waiting until he thought he was alone.  He straddled a bench and began rubbing lotion on his sore shoulders.  

“Let me help you,” said a voice from behind him.

Ron turned to see Harry, already freshly showered and changed, directly in front of him.

Ron tried to act nonchalant.  “Thought you had a date?” 

“Later,” replied Harry, taking the jar of lotion from Ron’s hand.

“Don’t," Ron protested. "It’s ok, I’m fine.”

“Rubbish.  You’re not limber enough to reach all of the sore spots.”  Harry rolled up the sleeves of his robe and rubbed the lotion between his hands.

Harry touched Ron’s shoulder blade, causing him to flinch.

“Sorry.  Didn’t know you were that sore,” Harry said, misinterpreting the reason for Ron’s reaction.

Harry began to massage his fingers into Ron’s shoulder blades.  Ron leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.  He tried to focus only on the warming liquid that was easing his sore muscles, and not on who was doing the massaging.

“Thanks,” Harry said suddenly after a few minutes of silence.

“For what?”

“For being so supportive about me and Blaise.”

“I’m not.”  Ron scowled.  “I’m your friend.  It has nothing to do with him.”  
    
“Oh.”

Ron stood up abruptly, leaving Harry's hands hanging in mid-air.  
   
“Thanks,” said Ron, picking up the jar and twisting the lid back on. 

“So, do you want to talk about it?”  Ron purposely stood with his back to Harry as he put on his t-shirt.

“It was really daft," said Harry. "I was just being overly sensitive.” 

“Were you?  Or is that what he told you?”  Ron was working at the clasps on his robes like they were a complicated puzzle.

“He said I was a poor kisser.”

Ron spun around to face a blushing Harry.  "Huh?"

Harry laughed nervously.  “It was silly for me to get upset.  He said he was only teasing.”

“That was a terrible thing to say!”  Ron exclaimed.  “Why do you… Never mind.”

“What were you going to say?”  Harry asked in an eager voice.

“I’m sure you’re not a bad kisser, Harry.”

“I’m not so sure.  I’ve only kissed two people.  One cried while I was kissing her and the other… well, he said I was, so…”

“Harry, it’s rubbish!  Zabini was only playing to your insecurities.”  Ron took a step forward.

“You’re only saying that to make me feel better.  It’s not like you know for sure.” Harry met Ron’s stare.

Ron saw a pleading and sad look in Harry’s eyes.  Before the blush creeping up his neck had a chance to reach his cheeks, he took a deep breath and leaned in towards the lips that he had been yearning to kiss for three long, agonizing years.  

When their closed lips met, Ron stepped forward to straighten out his stance, adjusting his head downward in attempts to stay attached to the shorter boy's lips.  At Ron’s movement, Harry parted his lips.  As their tongues tangled together, Ron’s heart caught fire and pumped boiling blood through his veins.  

Ron kept his hands at his side, afraid to move and cause the surreal moment to end.  His breath hitched in his throat when Harry leaned in closer.  Harry firmly clutched two fists full of his sleeves and let out a silky, contented sound that vibrated through his mouth.

“Don’t come down here!” a voice boomed from the door.  The friends jumped apart as Ginny came crashing into the locker room with an irritated look on her face.  

“Harry, your boyfriend is out there waiting for you,” Ginny’s voice dripped with venom when she spoke the word boyfriend.

Harry removed his fogged-up glasses and wiped them on his robe.  “T-t-thanks, Ginny,” he stammered.  

“I better go,” he added, putting his glasses back on.  After a timid glance at Ron, he turned on his heels to leave. 

Because Ron wanted the moment to end on his terms, not Zabini’s, he ignored the fluttering in his stomach, seized Harry’s shoulder, and whispered in his ear, “That was brilliant.  Maybe you’re just kissing the wrong person.”


	2. The Gift

For the first time in three months, Harry sat with his back to the Slytherin table.  He didn’t need to turn around to know that Blaise’s eyes were burning holes into the back of his head.

Hermione waved her hand in front of Harry's face to get his attention.  "What are you getting Blaise for Valentine's Day?"

“Huh?” replied Harry.

“Where are you today?”  Hermione was speaking to Harry but looking at Ron, who was uncharacteristically playing with his food.

“Dunno." Harry continued to stare off into space.  "I thought I’d search for something this weekend in Hogsmeade.”

“Great!" said Hermione enthusiastically.  "Ron and I will help you.”  She ignored Ron’s glare.

“Sure, thanks,” said Harry, sounding surprised at the offer.

“I have to find something for Dean,” Hermione said in a matter-of-a-fact tone.

“Dean?”  Ron whispered, glancing down at the other end of the table where Dean was sitting.

“Yes, Dean!" she exclaimed. "How about you, Ron?  Anyone special you would like to buy a gift for?” 

“No,” said Ron, suddenly gaining interest in his food and shoveling a mouthful of eggs into his mouth.

~~~

Snow was falling on the three friends as they made their way to Hogsmeade with the rest of the students.  Harry had tried to be elusive with Blaise about why he wanted to go to Hogsmeade without him, but eventually he had to tell him the truth.  

Harry had mixed feelings about Blaise’s protectiveness.  It made him uneasy that Blaise needed to know every move he made, but he supposed it was Blaise’s way of showing that he loved him.  

“Ron, what do you think Harry should get his Valentine?” asked Hermione.

“How about a fancy quill?”  Ron suggested.

Hermione's voice was shrill.  “A quill!  Ronald, no wonder you don’t have a date for Valentine’s Day!  That’s not a very romantic gift!”

Harry snorted and elbowed Ron jokingly.  Harry was trying his best to act nonchalant since their kiss.  Ron behaved as if nothing had happened, so Harry shrugged it off as another act of Ron’s unending devotion to their friendship.

Their first stop was Honeydukes.  Hermione purchased a box of chocolate frogs for Dean and suggested a few things that Harry could buy.  Harry looked over the selection and shook his head.  Hermione then dragged him and Ron into Gladrags Wizardwear and pointed out a few more items.  Harry still didn’t see anything that he wanted to buy, making Hermione even more determined to find something.

“Sorry, mate,” Harry whispered to Ron while Hermione was searching through a collection of dress robes.  “I know this stuff is boring.”

“It’s okay," replied Ron. "Why can’t you find anything you like?  You’ve only got four more days until Valentine’s.”

“Dunno.  I just don’t want to look foolish giving him something he doesn’t like.”

“Harry, he should like anything that you give him.  He loves you right?”

“Right,” Harry said cautiously.

“Well then, stop worrying about it."  Ron paused.  "Maybe it’s just Hermione.  She’s a girl and she doesn’t think like us!” 

“Yeah, but you’re a guy, and you don’t like other guys… and, um, you don’t really think the same either.”  Harry sounded uncertain.

“Harry, I’m a man of many mysteries.” 

‘Did Ron just tell me that he fancies blokes, too?’  Harry thought.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out.  

“Come with me,” Ron said, grabbing the sleeve of Harry’s cloak.  “Hermione, Harry and I are going off on our own.  We’ll meet you at The Three Broomsticks in an hour.”

Harry willingly let Ron lead him through the crowds, down the street, and into Dervish and Banges.  

Ron and Harry approached the counter and waited for the owner, who was assisting a girl Harry recognized from Ravenclaw.

“Whew, it’s warm in here,” Ron commented, unbuttoning his cloak and removing his scarf.

“I like that jumper,” Harry said out of nowhere.

“Huh?”  Ron looked down in surprise at the second hand jumper he was wearing.

“It’s a nice color,” Harry added.

“Oh, thanks,” replied Ron, absentmindedly toying with the neck.   

Suddenly feeling nervous, Harry wandered off to look at the merchandise.  He looked over the items and still couldn't find anything that would be the right gift.  He was growing frustrated with his indecisiveness, especially since Blaise had informed him he had custom-ordered Harry’s gift weeks ago.

Harry heard a voice behind him.  “My name is Jeffrey.  May I help you?” 

He turned to see Ron waving him over.

“Yes,” Ron said.  “My friend here is looking for a special gift for his… for a Valentine’s Day gift.  I’m Ron and this is -”

“Harry Potter.  I know.”

The elderly Wizard stared at Harry, giving him the same odd look that Mr. Ollivander had given him all those years ago when he bought his wand.

“And is this gift for someone special?”  Jeffrey asked.

“Um, yes,” replied Harry.

“Very special?”  Jeffrey's voice grew more demanding.

Harry’s face flushed when he saw Ron looking at him, waiting for his answer as well. 

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said softly.

The older Wizard raised an eyebrow and wandered away to a room in the back.

Harry gave Ron a mystified look, to which Ron shrugged his shoulders.  After waiting in silence for a few moments, Jeffrey returned and placed a small mahogany box on the counter.

The Wizard’s face beamed when he lifted the lid to show the boys a gold pocket watch.

“It’s just an old pocket watch,” observed Harry.

Jeffrey opened the case to reveal the dial.

Two sets of black roman numerals circled the ivory dial.  The first circle of numbers was the same found on a normal clock, but the second circle was smaller and counted from one to sixty.  There were four hands, each in varying lengths, and a small counter at the bottom showed the year – MCMXCVIII.

“No, it’s not!”  Ron said earnestly.  “I know what this is and they’re hard to come by these days.  My Mum and Dad have one in their bedroom.  It’s a _Time Stopper_!  This stops time!”

“Only for one hour,” Jeffrey added.

“Wow," said Harry.  "I’ve never heard of these.”

Jeffery wore a sly grin as he studied each of the boy’s faces.  “If you give this watch to the person you truly love, and that person is deserving of your heart, the hands will stop moving at precisely the moment the receiver accepts it and opens it to reveal the face.  Time will stand still and the world will stop, except for you and your beloved.  This watch gives the couple the precious gift of time that only those two will ever share.”

Harry leaned down to get a closer look at the watch.

“The fourth hand, the one resting on the hour, will begin counting down the hour,” Jeffrey informed them.

“And you’ll always know the exact time you gave your heart to the one you’ll spend the rest of your life with,” Ron said wistfully.  

Harry tilted his head up to see Ron staring at him and smiled.

“Hermione’s wrong," said Harry.  "You are a romantic.” 

“It’s what my Mum says about hers," Ron said hurriedly.  "My Dad gave it to her on her eighteenth birthday.” 

“Um…  I don’t know if this is the right gift,” Harry said hesitantly.

“I’m sure that it is,” Jeffrey said firmly.  “And if I’m wrong, which I am sure that I am not, you may return it.”

“For a full refund?” asked Ron.

Jeffrey nodded his confirmation.  

Ron turned his attention to Harry. “Harry, is this what you want to buy?”

Harry picked up the watch and turned it over in his hand.  It was worn looking and he thought of all the lavish things that adorned Blaise’s dorm room.  

‘But this gift isn’t about money, it’s about love,’ he silently told himself.

“Yes,” Harry decided finally, placing the watch back in the box.

“Very good, boys,” Jeffrey said, patting both Harry and Ron’s hands.

“Be sure to write on the slip that he can get a full refund,” Ron called out to Jeffrey as he left again for the backroom.

~~~

"A what?"  Hermione examined the watch in Harry's hand as they waited for Ron to bring them cups of hot cocoa.

Harry repeated the information Jeffrey and Ron had given him.

“Are you sure about this?” she asked.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?”  Harry responded defensively.

“Because I don’t think Blaise makes you very happy.  There, I said it.”  Hermione had a defiant look on her face.

“How would you know?”

“I’m your friend.  That’s how.”

“Hermione, you don’t understand - ”  Harry stopped abruptly when Ron returned to the table, levitating the cups of cocoa. 

“So, Ron, what do you think of Harry’s gift for his beloved?”  Hermione asked sarcastically.

“I think I’m going to be leaving now,” Harry said suddenly.  He stood up too quickly, hitting his knees on the table and almost spilling their drinks. 

“What?”  Ron said sharply, scowling at his female best friend.

“I promised Blaise I’d be back early to spend some time with him.”  Harry said over his shoulder as he headed for the door.  

“Hermione…  I can’t believe…  Why did you do that?”  Ron said angrily.

Hermione gave Ron a long hard look and took a deep breath.  “Because you’re so thick, I could hit you in the head with a brick, and it would bounce right off.”

‘What?  I - ”

“Don’t feel bad.  That one,” she pointed towards where Harry had just left, “is thicker than you.”

“Herm - ”

Hermione put up her hand, signaling him to shut up.  She had made up her mind that it was time she got involved.  

“Answer something.  Why haven’t you told Harry that you disapprove of Blaise?”

“I have in so many words.”

“Wrong answer,” she said shortly.

“If you’re so smart, then you tell me!”  Ron barked.

“Because if you do, and he continues to date Blaise, he’ll withdraw from you.  He’ll stop coming to you with their problems.  And that’ll mean he choose Blaise over you.”

“I-I-I…”  Ron threw his hands up in the air.  “What am I supposed to do?”

“Don’t let him use your feelings!  He’s getting from you what he isn’t getting from Blaise.  He enjoys the intimacy he gets from you when you comfort him during one of his moods.”

“Enjoys… intimacy…  Are you s-saying that you think that Harry fancies me?”

“No, he doesn’t fancy you.”  Hermione saw the look of hope crumple from Ron's face and quickly added, “He _loves_ you, Ron.”

“You’re mad!”  Ron shouted.  “If he does, he’s got an unusual way of showing it!”

Hermione took a second to silently thank the gods that men weren’t the ones fully responsible for keeping the human race populated.

“He’s not the only one at fault here," she informed him. "He doesn’t know you are an option.  He doesn’t know you like blokes.  You haven’t exactly announced it.”

“We kissed,” Ron blurted out.  “You’d think that was enough of a hint.”

“What?”  Hermione gasped.  "When?”

Ron updated her on his assistance with Harry’s insecurities about his kissing techniques.  

“Oh… well, was he a good kisser?”  Hermione asked. 

“He has strong lips,” Ron said.

“Ah, you felt it in your knees!” she responded, nodding her head in understanding.

“I felt it everywhere!”

“Yeah, strong lips,” Hermione repeated and gave him a reassuring smile.  “Obviously, that wasn’t enough.  He probably thinks you did it just to be nice.”

“See,” she added, poking her head with her finger.  “Thick!”

“I’m not going to tell him how I feel.  I can’t…  I couldn’t take it if he -”  

Hermione cut him off.  “I don’t think Harry realizes he is in love with you.  He’s afraid, too.  However, I really believe if he knew how you felt, he’d make the first move.  This is what you need to do.  Stop letting him lean on you when that sad excuse for a boyfriend does something to hurt him.  Tell him you disapprove of the relationship.  And, most importantly, let him know that you are interested in men.”

“How in Merlin’s name do you know all this?” 

“That’s not the point.  Trust me.”

~~~

Before they left The Three Broomsticks to head back to Hogwarts, Ron reluctantly agreed to try it her way.  If the opportunity to test Hermione’s theory hadn't arisen so quickly, Ron’s fear of losing Harry’s friendship would have caused him to second-guess her.  But that same night, Ron and Hermione were sitting in the Common Room when Harry came stomping in through the portrait. He glanced at Ron, huffed loudly, and headed up the stairs.

Reacting out of habit, Ron started to rise from his seat.  Hermione grabbed his forearm and pulled him back down on the couch.  “Trust me,” she whispered.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Hermione poked a fidgeting Ron in the leg, and he looked up to see Harry walking towards them.

“Hi.”  Harry sat down in the closest chair and sighed.

“Hi, Harry,” Hermione said cheerfully.  “How was your date?”

“S’okay,” Harry replied, less than enthusiastically.

“That’s good.”  She swapped a knowing look with Ron.

“What are you up to, mate?”  Harry asked, leaning over to see the book in Ron’s hand.

“Charms,” answered Ron without looking up.

“Oh.” 

After a few moments of silence, Ron raised his eyes to glimpse at Harry.  Harry was gazing back at him, wearing his lost puppy face.  

“Something wrong, Harry?” asked Ron.

“No,” Harry answered pitifully.  

Ron finally started to believe Hermione was right.  He almost burst out into laughter at Harry’s obvious attempts to get his attention.  

Hermione’s face glowed with pride.

“Oh, okay then.”  Ron looked back down at his book.

Harry continued digging for Ron’s attention.  He pulled out all of his usual brooding behaviors - shifting in his chair, sighing, pulling at the loose threads on his robes, and looking gloomy as he stared into the fire.  Ron ignored all of them.

Ron waited until Harry began running his hands through his already-tousled hair before speaking again. "Don't you have any homework to do?"

“No, finished it all this morning.”

“Good.  But I’ve got tons left,” said Ron.

“Right.  I’ll leave then.”  Harry stood up, standing over Ron.  

“Don’t want to disturb you or anything,” he added crossly.

“Thanks,” Ron replied.

It took all of Ron’s will power not to watch Harry as he made his way to the stairs, because he knew Harry would glance back to see if he was watching.

“Told you,” said Hermione triumphantly.


	3. The Hour

Valentine’s Day began with a bang.  Harry entered the Great Hall for breakfast and three owls immediately swooped down on him, each one delivering a different present of chocolates, flowers, and a box that had something in it that Harry refused to show anyone.

Ron leaned over and whispered in Hermione’s ear.  “Blaise doesn’t know anything about Harry!  He hates this kind of public attention!”

She patted Ron's hand.  "I know."

For the rest of the day, Blaise continued to assault Harry with gifts and notes.  Ron couldn’t tell if Harry was enjoying it or not, because he was wearing an emotionless face throughout most of the day.  Actually, Harry had been wearing that same face since Ron ignored his pleas for attention.  Ron almost faltered more than once, but Hermione’s voice rang out in his head, telling him to be strong.

The last class of the day was Advanced Potions and Blaise almost knocked Ron down shoving past him to join Harry at his table.  Ron wasn’t in the mood to fight, so he looked around for an empty seat.  Unfortunately, the only empty seat was next to Malfoy.  Ron decided arguing with Malfoy might be a good way to let off some steam and slipped into the seat next to him.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Malfoy,” Ron said mockingly. 

“Bugger off, Weasley,” snapped Malfoy.

Ron chuckled and began gathering the ingredients for the potion that Snape was writing on the blackboard.

They mixed the potion in silence, using only grunts and hand gestures when one of them needed to get the other’s attention.

“Mr. Zabini!” Snape bellowed.  “If you weren’t so busy ogling Mr. Potter, your potion wouldn’t be turning red, instead of green.  Pay attention!”

Ron glared at Zabini.  Malfoy poked him in the ribs.

“Ouch!" hissed Ron.  "What was that for?” 

“Don’t be so obvious,” Malfoy whispered.  

“Obvious about what?”

“Please, Weasley.  If looks could kill and all that.”  Malfoy rolled his eyes and waved his hand in the air.

“What do you know about it?”  Ron froze when he saw a strange look on Malfoy’s face.

“You…  You don’t…  Zabini?”  Ron said in a hoarse whisper.

The tips of Malfoy’s ears turned pink.  “Shut your hole,” he said.

“Ha!  Talk about obvious!”  Ron laughed as he stirred their potion.

“He’s using Harry, you know?”  Malfoy said coolly.

“Really?  What a bloody shock?”  Ron replied in a sarcastic tone.

“What you don’t know is he is scared.”

Ron leaned in closer.  “Huh?”  

“Harry has been acting distant.  He’s afraid he’s going to lose Harry and the attention that goes with dating _The Boy Who Saved Us_.  He’s pulling every trick he knows out of his hat.”

“What’s up with Harry?”

“Do I look like a mind reader?  That’s your job to take care of that end of it.  I’m already doing what I can on my end.”

Ron didn’t need to ask to know what Malfoy was doing on his end.  

“So, when they break up, you’ll be there to pick up the pieces?”

The pink had trickled down to the rest of Malfoy's ears.  “Not quite.  I don’t take Potter’s sloppy seconds, but I would rather enjoy seeing Zabini humiliated.”

“I know you’re not doing this for me," said Ron, "but thanks anyway.”

Malfoy studied him for a moment.  “Weasel.”

“Ferret,” Ron countered and walked away, grinning. 

~~~

Seamus and Dean had already left for their dates by the time the remaining three roommates returned to the dorm after dinner.  Neville had the good sense to get his things and head to the Common Room, while Harry dressed for his date and Ron sat on his bed pretending not to notice.

“You and Malfoy looked right cozy today.”  Harry's voice startled Ron away from his thoughts.

“What does that mean?” retorted Ron.

“Nothing.”

“It’s not like I had a choice on who I partnered with,” Ron said bitterly.

“It looked like you were enjoying it.”

Ron gave a short laugh and replied, “Malfoy’s not my type.”

“I know that,” Harry said bluntly.  “He’s a bloke.”

Ron took a deep breath and silently thanked Fate for giving him this opportunity.

“No, it’s the opposite.  Malfoy is entirely too girly for me.”

“Huh?”  Harry tilted his head.

“Malfoy.  Feminine.  Understand?”

“What?”  Harry mouthed wordlessly.

“Harry!  Please!  I can picture him in his room wearing a tiara, heels, and a pair of elbow-length satin gloves, gazing into a mirror, and asking it who’s the fairest one of them all!  Don’t tell me you didn’t know Malfoy was a poof!”

“Y-y-eah, I’m not surprised.  I’ve suspected he fancies Blaise.  B-but you just said he was too girly.  Does that mean you like the… the opposite of girly?”

“You ARE thick, Potter.”

“That’s not an answer,” Harry gaped at Ron, who was still sitting on his bed.

“Yes, I like blokes," said Ron.  "Didn’t you ever wonder why I wasn’t dating?”

“Um, no…  I mean yes.  I hadn’t really thought about it,” Harry admitted.

Ron got up from the bed, attempting to appear calm.  The exact opposite of what he was really feeling. 

“There’s not much of a gay dating pool around here, is there?  All of the other blokes that fancy blokes are paired off.  Except for Malfoy and me, and I’ve already covered that.”

Harry’s brow crinkled.  “I…  I’m sorry.”

“What are you apologizing for?  Do you think you rubbed off on me or something?”

“No…  I don’t know.  I should’ve known.”

“How could you have known?”  Ron said, moving closer to Harry, who appeared to be rooted to the floor.

“Because…  You’re my best mate and…  I’ve been selfish," replied Harry. "Always talking about my relationship problems.”

“Speaking of that,” said Ron, feeling more confident that the path Hermione had set him on seemed to be working.  “I have something to say about your relationship.”

“What?”

“Zabini is an insensitive arsehole!" he declared triumphantly.  "You deserve better.  Much better!”

Harry’s shoulders slumped and he shoved his hands in his pockets.  He didn’t say anything, so Ron took it upon himself to keep talking.

“I don’t know why you put up with it!”  he continued.  “Everyone knows he’s just using you because of your name!”

Harry’s head shot up and Ron took a step back when he saw his face was full of rage.

“Who’s everyone, Ron?  YOU!  You think no one could ever love me for me!”

“I-I… that’s not what I - ”  

“Fuck you!  That is what you meant!  But you’re wrong, because he does love me.”

Feeling defeated and stupid, Ron collapsed on the bed as Harry swung the door open.

“But, do you love him?”  He called out after him, but Harry didn’t answer.

~~~

Harry stood outside the Room of Requirement, attempting to calm down before he went in to see Blaise.  He paced back and forth in front of the door, clenching and unclenching his fists, trying to stop the nagging thought that was pushing at his brain.  

The box that contained the _Time Stopper_ was in the chest pocket of his robes and he could feel his heart pumping fast against it.  He stopped and rested his forehead against the coolness of the hallway walls.  Since the day he bought the watch, he tried to imagine Blaise’s face when he presented it to him, but he couldn’t picture it.  There was another image blocking it, but he couldn’t see that either.  It was like trying to think of a word that was on the tip of your tongue, but you just couldn’t seem to vocalize it.   

“Love, what are you doing?”

Harry looked up to see Blaise standing in the doorway.

“Nothing,” said Harry, straightening up and trying to look casual.

“Well, then come in here.  I have a surprise for you.”  Blaise extended his hand for Harry to take.

Harry took his hand and allowed Blaise to lead him into the room.  The room was the perfect romantic setting.  If you found flowers, candles, and a king-size bed with silk sheets to be romantic.  Harry did not.  And when Blaise brushed his lips against Harry’s, they were both surprised when he recoiled from the touch.

“Harry, what is wrong with you?  Don’t you like what I did for you?”

“Nothing’s wrong.  It’s nice, Blaise.”

“Nice?  These flowers weren’t conjured.  I bought them for you.”

“Thank you.”  Harry wandered over to a table that held champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries.

He pointed to the strawberries.  “Where did you get these?” 

“I had my house elf prepare them,” Blaise replied, picking one up and holding it to Harry’s mouth.

Harry turned his face away from the treat.  “I’m allergic.”

“Sorry.  I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, you did.  I told you that on our second date.  Remember?  I told you how Ron’s Mum made them for us, because Ron likes chocolate so much.  But then my face swelled up after on bite and then Ron rushed me to -”

“Sure.  I remember now,” Blaise said wryly.  “How about champagne?  Not allergic to that, are you, love?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Good.”  Blaise poured two flutes of champagne and handed one to Harry.

“To us,” he said, raising his glass.

Harry met Blaise’s glass with his, but kept his eyes lowered.  The nagging thought was still tap-tap-tapping at his brain.

“How’d you get this room?” asked Harry.  “I’m sure there were a lot of couples trying to get in here.”

Blaise smirked.  “Who would deny the famous Harry Potter a special night with his beloved?” 

“Right,” Harry replied.

“Seriously, Harry, what is wrong with you?”  Blaise said furiously.  “Are you still angry with me about the other night?”

“No.”

“Good.”  Blaise stepped forward, closing the gap between them.  “I want tonight to be special.”

Harry’s brows went up.  “Special?  Oh, that’s what this is all about.”

“It’s been three months, love.  Don’t you love me?  Don’t you want me to make love to you?”

_‘No,’_ Harry’s brain screamed.   </i>‘Bloody hell. What’s wrong with me?’</i>

Blaise wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist and pulled him closer.  Harry felt the _Time Stopper_ press into his chest and panicked when Blaise’s face lit up.

“Is that my gift?”  Blaise asked sweetly.

Harry’s mind went blank as Blaise reached into his robes and extracted the box.  

Blaise began to unwrap the gift.  Then finally, the image Harry had been searching for in his mind came through perfectly clear.  It wasn’t Blaise’s face he saw – it was Ron’s, back in the store, looking at him as he inspected the watch.  Ron’s eyes full of feelings.  Feelings for Harry.  

Harry’s grabbed Blaise’s wrist and yanked the gift from his hand.

“What the - ”  Blaise shouted.

“That wasn’t meant for you,” Harry said indignantly.

“Really.  Whom is it meant for?”

“Not you,” Harry said sharply.  “Actually, Blaise, I don’t think I’m meant for you either.  So, if you’ll excuse me.”

Harry moved to leave, but Blaise stepped between him and the door. 

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“None of your business!”  

“Do you really think I’m going to allow you to break-up with me, so you can go be with that nobody Weasley?”

“What?”

“I know what’s going on.  I see the way you look at him.”

“Shut it, Blaise.  Now, get out of my way!”

“No.”  Blaise stared fixedly into Harry’s eyes.

Harry narrowed his eyes, pushed his chest against Blaise’s, and said in a low, forceful voice, “You’ve being dying to know how I destroyed Voldemort.  Well, if you don’t get out of my way, I am going to show you first hand.”

Terror flashed in Blaise’s eyes, yet he still managed to move out of Harry’s way with grace and pride.

“That’s right, Blaise.  Just like the clever Slytherin you are,” Harry said as he brushed past him.

At the door, Harry turned back and said, “This is it.  That means no revenge on me or anyone that I choose to be with after tonight.  Mark my words, I will make your life as miserable as you’ve made mine. ”

“Is that a threat, Potter?”

“Yes,” Harry said simply and closed the door behind him.  

~~~

The Common Room was filled with first, second, and third years too young to pair off on romantic adventures.  Ron was sitting on a couch with Hermione and Dean.  

“Please, go on your date!”  Ron urged his friends.  “I’m fine.”

“I feel horrible, Ron," Hermione said sadly.  "This is all my fault.” 

“No, it’s not.  I would’ve done something dumb on my own.  It was only a matter of time.”  Ron forced a smile to make her feel better.

“You sure you’re okay here by yourself?” she asked.

“Yeah.  Go!” 

Hermione and Dean gave him uneasy looks and he waved at them to leave.  He really didn’t want to be alone, but he felt too guilty to make them sit there and watch him mope all night.

“Harry!”  He heard Hermione say loudly.  He looked up to see Harry striding across the Common Room with a determined look on his face.  Ron panicked.  His first thought was that Harry was going to punch him.

Ron rose quickly to his feet, his eyes wide.  He looked pleadingly at Hermione, but she just stood there with a huge grin on her face. 

“Harry?  What are you - ” The end of the question became muffled by Harry’s lips.  

Like their first kiss, Ron was too terrified to move, but this time Harry wasn’t and wrapped his arms around Ron’s neck, burying his fingers in Ron’s hair.  Every nerve in Ron’s body awoke and filled him with exhilarating tingles.  The kiss was short.  Too short for Ron’s liking.

Harry rested his forehead against Ron’s and whispered, “I didn’t know.”

“Yeah, well, you’re daft.  I always knew you were daft,” Ron said in a husky voice.

Ron felt Harry press something cool and round into his hand.  “This is yours,” he said.

Ron knew what it was, but he was afraid to look at it.

“Harry, but what if it -”

“It will.  I’m sure of it.”

Ron looked at the watch resting in his palm and slowly opened it.  A surge of energy pulsated through the room and Ron’s face lit up when the second hand on the watch stopped.

Every inhabitant in the room was motionless.  Hermione still had the broad grin on her face she had been wearing while she watched her two best friends kiss.  Dean’s hand was suspended in mid-air a few inches above her shoulder.

Ron let out a whistle.  “Blimey, it worked.”

“I didn’t doubt it for a second,” Harry said, looking smug.

Ron gave him a firm whack on the shoulder.  “Oh, you didn’t, did you?  Took you long enough.  Git.”

“Are you going to argue with me for the entire hour, or shall we go upstairs and let me make it all up to you?”

Ron didn’t even bother responding to the stupidest question he had ever heard in his entire life.  He was the first one in the room, but he quickly halted at the sight of Neville sitting on his bed frozen with one hand scratching his head, Trevor caught in mid-leap over his lap.

“Ignore him.”  Harry spun Ron around to face him.

Harry’s arms circled Ron’s waist and tugged him close, pressing their bodies together.  Ron cupped Harry’s face between his hands and caressed his cheeks with his thumbs.  

“I can’t,” Ron said suddenly, pulling away.

“W-what?”

“Him!”  Ron pointed at Neville.  “Put a blanket over him or something.”

Harry laughed.  After Neville was properly hidden under a blanket, he removed his glasses and tackled Ron onto the nearest bed in one swift leap.

Harry’s moved his mouth over Ron's jaw and down to his throat, leaving a trail of warm saliva that gave Ron the shivers as the cool air touched it.  

Harry howled when Ron pinched his upper arm.

“What was that for?”  Harry said, rubbing the sore spot.

“I wanted to make sure I wasn’t dreaming,” Ron replied with a glint in his eye.

“You’re supposed to pinch yourself!”

“Why would I want to hurt myself?”  Ron said in mock shock.

Harry didn’t laugh.  He simply looked at Ron with an intensity and longing that made Ron wriggle underneath him.

“Mmmm… that feels nice when you do that,” Harry said as he ground his erection against Ron’s.  Ron moaned and his face immediately turned the same color as the Gryffindor crimson drapes that hung from the bed.

“Ron, relax,” Harry said softly, delivering small kisses to Ron’s face.

“I’m sorry, Harry,” Ron said resentfully.  “I’m not as experienced as you!”

Harry sighed and dropped his head to Ron’s chest.  “I’m not.  Don’t worry about that.”

“Don’t lie to make me feel better.”

“I’m not.  I swear.  Blaise and I didn’t… we never did anything really serious.”

“What?”

“Do I have to go into detail?”

Silence.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Harry said sharply.  “We never had sex.  Wanking mostly.”

“Mostly?”

“Ron!  Please, this is our time.  Let’s not do this now.”  Harry raised his head and looked at him with pleading eyes.

“S’ry.”

Ron lifted his head and licked Harry’s lips.  “Kiss me,” Ron said lustfully.

And kiss him, Harry did - alternating between hard and passionate, and soft and loving.  Ron lost the ability to string words together to form a sentence.  Only single words flashed through his mind.  _Harry.  Good.  Ah.  Cock.  Hard.  Yes._

Ron’s body moved with a mind of its own.  He spread his legs and wrapped them around Harry, grabbing his arse and pulling him harder against his erection.

“Ron…”   Harry said breathlessly.  “More.”

Ron removed Harry’s jumper and threw it on the floor.  Harry reciprocated and moaned when their bare skin finally met.  

“Feels so good,” Harry murmured.  “Feels so right.”  Harry’s mouth and tongue worked their way around Ron’s neck, down to his chest, and then back to his ear.

Harry moved to Ron’s side and stroked his erection through his trousers.  Ron lifted his hips and Harry took that as his cue to remove the rest of their clothes.

“What do you want me to do?”  Ron asked between Harry’s kisses.  

Harry's slim fingers wrapped around his cock and lazily stroked the shaft.  

"Ron, I want you inside of me," Harry whispered in a throaty voice.  "I want to feel you inside of me."

Ron stiffened and cried out a stream of gibberish as his orgasm hit him hard and fast.  

Embarrassed and feeling incredibly vulnerable, he buried his face in the crook of Harry’s neck.  

“S’ry.  It was too much to take all at once,” he said, muffling his voice against Harry’s skin.

“It’s okay,” Harry replied, stroking Ron’s hair.  “I make you that excited, huh?”

“Yes!”  

“How much time is left?”  Harry asked.

Ron pulled the watch from the pocket of his pants that were balled up at the bottom of the bed.

“Forty-three minutes.  Just enough time to take care of this.”  Ron gently traced his fingers over Harry’s erection.

“We have loads of time.”

“We’ll still have to get cleaned up and get out of here before Neville wakes…  Oh, you mean after the hour’s up!”

“Yes," said Harry.  "But this hour, it’s special, too.  It’s a time that is all about us!”

“Harry?”

“Yes.”

“It’s always been about us.”

“I know.  Now, I know.”


End file.
